


The Art of Saying Sorry

by Flantastic



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Apologies, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Schmoop, Smut, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flantastic/pseuds/Flantastic
Summary: James makes a mistake and totally misreads a situation.  Luckily Q knows just how he can make it up to him.





	The Art of Saying Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously? This story was supposed to be a little bundle of schmoopy angst and then the smut bunnies got a hold of me and next thing I know it's filth, I tell you, FILTH!
> 
> Prompted by this photo [here](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/312929874088833438/) and the good folks at the 00Q - James Bond/Q addicted Facebook page.

 

Q ran up the three steps to his front door with a little hop.  He was excited to be home.  He’d sloped off out of work early and had a brilliant afternoon which he couldn’t wait to tell James all about.  It was half-past four and according to James’s schedule he should have arrived at Heathrow about twenty minutes before.  That gave Q just enough time to jump in the shower and make a start on dinner before James got home.

Q knew it wasn’t James’s home, not really, not yet.  They’d only been dating for around six months, thrown together after one of the other double-oh agents had died.  Skellern was one of the best but despite this and despite Q’s best efforts, he’d died on a mission to Kiev.  Q had worked tirelessly for three days, trying to locate the agent after he’d been captured.  When the extraction team finally found him, he was still warm but it was too late.  He was dead.  Q had been devastated, staggering numbly to his office and locking the door before slumping to the floor, exhausted beyond measure and grief-stricken at the loss of one of his agents. 

James had found him there.  Q never did work out how he’d managed to crack the security protocols so quickly to gain access to his office but when the agent took him in his arms and kissed away his tears he never did care.  He allowed the older man to wrap him in his anorak and lead him away from his department. James had taken him home and taken him to bed, making love to him slowly and sweetly before simply holding him and letting him weep himself to sleep.

James had been there ever since, whenever he was off-mission.  

Q unlocked his front door and smiled when he saw James’s bag in the hallway.  He must have gotten home early.  He called out ‘hello!’ as he took off his coat and shoes and was surprised when he didn’t hear an answer.  Wondering if James had fallen asleep, he walked into the lounge to see James sitting there at the end of the sofa, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a photo of the two of them in the other.

“James?”  Q asked cautiously.  “Are you OK?” 

It was obvious that he wasn’t.  He looked ashen, almost tearful, as if a tearful 007 wasn’t the most ridiculous thing that Q could imagine.  The man was a rock, a machine.  It was strange to see so much emotion on the older man’s face.  He walked over to him and sank to his knees, placing a hand on James’s lap.

“James?”

It was only then that James seemed to notice him, wiping his nose inelegantly on the back of his hand before taking a swallow of his drink.

“I was going to just leave.”  James said hoarsely.  “I packed all my stuff.  I was just going to go home.  Thought it might be easier.”

“Oh sweetheart, what’s happened?  Are you okay?”

James shook his head.

“I swore… after Vesper… never again.”  He drained his glass.  “But then I met you and…”  He looked down.  “I thought you were the one.  I thought, maybe you and I… Jesus Tom.  I love you so much…”

James set down the glass and Q caught up his hand, entwining their fingers the way he’d done a dozen times before.  James tried to reclaim his hand, shying away when Q tried to stroke his face.

“Please… don’t.”

“James… please… please tell me what’s happened.  I’m here for you whenever you…”

“I saw you.”

Q stopped dead, wondering for a split second what on earth James could mean.

“You saw me?”  He queried.

“I went into Q-Branch and R told me you’d left early to go to lunch so I went to the Green Leaf Café – I know it’s your favourite – I was going to surprise you and…  I saw you with him.  Saw him hugging you.  Kissing you.”  James finally pulled his hand away and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.  “I’ve been such a fool.  I always knew I was too old for you… not good enough for you…”

Q sat back on his haunches, staring at James as he struggled to contain his emotions.  His mouth hung open a little as he tried to get his head around what James was saying.  What he was accusing him of.

“Oh, you utter berk.”  He finally said softly.

James looked up in surprise as Q stood up and went to the bookshelf.  He took down a battered old photo album.  He plonked himself down next to James and opened the back page of the album.

“Is this him?”  Q asked, angling the album so James could see the large photograph that covered the page.  It was a photo of Q in a mortarboard and gown.  He was smiling at the camera, the other young man had his arm slung around Q’s shoulder.  James nodded.  “That was the day I graduated for the second time.”

“You knew him at university.” James said.

“Hmm.”  Q replied, turning three pages over in rapid succession.  He angled the album again. “Before that even.”  The next photo was of Q as a teenager, with long, unruly hair and an Animaniacs tshirt, one side of his National Health glasses held together by sticky tape.  He was crouched down next to a home-made rocket.  The other boy was behind him, pulling a face and striking a ridiculous pose in his attempt to photo-bomb Q.  “That was one of the out-takes from a photo-shoot by the local paper after I got accepted by Oxford.  We were thirteen, in case you were wondering.”

“Who is he Q?”  James asked.

Q sighed and turned all the pages over to the first page.  He passed the album to James.  The photo there showed Q’s mother, propped up in a hospital bed, surrounded by cards and flowers.  Balloons proclaiming, ‘Double Trouble’ and ‘It’s a Boy!’ floated either side of her and in her arms…

“Two babies…”  James murmured.  “He’s…”

“My brother.”  Q finished for him.  “My twin, Kit.  He’s come home for a surprise visit from New Zealand.  He’s a palaeontologist; a professor at the Univeristy of Otago.”

“Of course he is.” James commented dryly, turning back to the graduation photo.  He studied it, shaking his head. “He looks nothing like you…”

“Not all twins are identical you idiot.”  Q said, nudging James playfully with his shoulder. “Sheesh, if I ever needed proof that I was the brains in this relationship…”

James huffed out a laugh but then his face fell.

“I’m so sorry.”  He said quietly.  “I thought… Oh God, I’m so sorry Tom.”

Q took the album back off him and set it down on the coffee table before leaning over to kiss James’s cheek. 

“If it was anyone else… _anyone_ … I would have been furious at the insinuation that I might cheat.  But James, I know that you’ve lost almost everyone that you’ve ever loved.  It makes sense that you would be paranoid about losing me but I’m telling you now that I’m not going anywhere.  I belong here with you.  Although…”

He climbed over James’s lap to straddle him.

“… I might have liked a few roses or a bottle of champagne to go with the confession…”

“The confession?”

“I love you too James.”

He bent to kiss him again and felt a thrill, as he did every time, when James’s big hands smoothed up his back to hold him steady.  He closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation of James touching him.  His rough fingertips finding their way under his clothing to stroke his skin, the scruff of his barely-there five o’clock shadow against his chin and his lips; so much softer than Q would ever have dreamed before that night in his office.  Q sighed as he sank down into James’s lap and his lover’s hard cock pressed into his own.

“I’ve come to rely on you being here, you see.”  Q said quietly.  “With me.  Please don’t dream I would ever want anyone else.”

“I’m so sorry darling.” James repeated.  “Can you forgive me?” 

Q was about to be cheeky and ask if James was asking to be forgiven for being a jealous old goat but he was stopped by the expression on his face.  Q had never seen him like that before.  It was like all his usual bravado was gone.  Like James had been stripped bare at the thought of losing Q.

“Oh sweetheart…”  Q breathed, kissing James again between his words.  “I might well do if you _show_ me how sorry you are…”

James smiled into their kiss and hummed his approval.  He popped the button on Q’s waistband before slowly drawing down the zip.  He reached inside his trousers and gripped him through his underpants.

“Like this?”

It was Q’s turn to make a low noise, bucking his hips and pushing his tongue into James’s mouth as he was caressed.  He raised himself up onto his knees when James began to stroke, pushing into his lover’s fist with the same slow rhythm.  He felt himself get wet as his arousal grew, helped by James’s thumb pressing the now-sodden material over the head of his cock with every stroke.  Q gasped, suddenly over-heated, as he struggled to get out of his clothing.  He undid the buttons on his shirt before unlooping his tie just far enough to slip it over his head before tearing his shirt and jacket off together.  Q wobbled, momentarily, and James immediately took advantage, grabbing his hips and flipping them so that Q sat where James had just been.  Meanwhile James dropped to his knees to drag the rest of Q’s clothing down to his ankles.  Without giving Q a chance to move another muscle he dropped his head and took him into his mouth.

If Q was ever pressed to described heaven, he was pretty sure that it would involve James’s mouth on his cock.  He sucked cock the same way he did everything else; with a single-minded focus and to maximum effect.  Q gasped and then whimpered as James went to town on him, using every trick in his not inconsiderable book, to bring Q quickly to the edge.  Q spread his legs and covered his face, burying it in the crook of his elbow.  He simultaneously wordlessly asking for more while daring not to look lest he come at the sight of his lover’s piercing blue eyes watching him.  James might have chuckled but Q wasn’t sure, the majority of his blood had rushed to his cock but a fair proportion of it was also thudding in his ears.  Q did yelp though when he felt James’s finger rub over his perineum. 

“Please James.” He begged when James suddenly pulled off him.  Before Q had time to react he was bent in two, his knees pressed to his chest and James replaced his fingers with his tongue, licking up the crack of Q’s arse with a broad stroke.  “JESUS!”  Q shouted, feeling the softly exhaled breath of James’s laughter over his balls.  James licked again, slower, wetter and then his mouth was back on Q’s cock as a thick finger was pushed into his arse. 

Q gripped the sofa cushions as James gradually loosened him, never once relenting in his sweet, sweet suction.  He started to pant as the finger became two and then three, slipping in an out of him until the movement was fluid and loose.  Q idly wondered if James had found the lube that they’d used in the lounge a couple of nights before but then it began to feel like the three fingers had become four and all coherent thought fled.  The pressure in his arse was intense but divine.  James had never managed to get his whole hand into Q but as Q felt the pull and stretch of James’s broad knuckles push against his entrance he wondered if he would now.  He shifted as he realised that he could feel James’s thumb caress his perineum with every stroke, spreading his legs, wordlessly begging for more.

James slipped his other hand in under the small of Q’s back and everything became perfect.  The pressure on his prostate increased at the exact moment that Q felt the scrape of James’s teeth over his shaft and his toes curled as he came like a rocket, accidentally clamping his thighs down on James’s head as he came down his throat.  James hummed his approval and carried on sucking and stroking until Q was spasming with sensitivity.  When Q finally sagged, James pulled off him and crawled over him to kiss him, two fingers still gently fucking into his arse.  Q lazily licked into James’s mouth.

“Apology accepted.”  He said with a smile.  James grinned at him.

“Oh, that wasn’t an apology.”  He replied, his fingers twisting to find Q’s prostate again.

“It wasn’t?”  Q asked with a shiver.

“No.  That was me warming you up for my apology.”

James knelt up and started to loosen his tie but Q reached out to stop him when he realised with a jolt of excitement that James was still fully dressed in one of his Tom Ford suits while Q was sprawled out naked and flushed.

“Please don’t.  Keep it on.  All of it.”

James smiled as he slowly did up the top button of his shirt before neatening up his tie again.  He tugged on his cuffs before slowly drawing down his fly.  Q’s mouthed watered as James carefully pulled one of Q’s feet free of his trousers and pants before hooking one of his ankles over James’s shoulder.  Tugging Q’s hips towards the edge of the sofa, James reached into his trousers and drew out his erection before plunging it into him.  Q yelped as James began to thrust; long, measured strokes designed to make Q feel every inch of James’s not-inconsiderable cock.  James looped his elbow under Q’s other leg and shifted so that Q was completely splayed out, his legs spread to their widest extension.  James dropped down a little, changing the angle of entry and Q realised that he was trying to find Q’s prostate again.  Q whined.  No, he couldn’t come again.  He’d only just come and he wasn’t a teenager anymore.  He tried to move himself as James suddenly got the right angle, brushing over his sensitive spot with every measured stroke, but James held him fast.  Q moaned and stuffed his fist in his mouth but James immediately grabbed his wrist, pressing it down onto his chest.

“No darling.  I want to hear you.”

James took Q’s cock in his other hand and gripped him.  Q threw his head back at the increased pressure as he started to sweat.  It was all so perfect.  The hand pressing his wrist to his chest and the tight grip on his cock serving to pin him, hold him in the exact position James needed to assault his prostate with every thrust.  He could only imagine what they looked like, the large agent in his tailored suit, immaculately dressed except for his bare cock thrusting into his young lover and his quartermaster, naked, straining, crying out on every stroke, his legs spread wide as he was fucked. 

James suddenly moved his hand, grabbing Q’s hip and tugging, causing him to slip further off the edge of the sofa, the edge of the seat cushion now supporting the small of his back.  James twitched his shoulder, causing Q’s leg to slip down off it, spreading his legs even further.  He pushed up and increased his pace, slapping into Q until he couldn’t take it anymore.  He threw his head back and howled as he started to come again.  His cock twitched, spurting onto his belly and smearing as he writhed, clutching at the sofa cushions.  James seemed to take this as a cue to finish and he pulled on Q again until just his shoulders were on the sofa and his feet were flat on the floor and James was pounding up into him.  Q wailed, overwrought as James suddenly froze and then dragged Q firmly into his lap as he came hard.

Q lolled for a moment as he tried to remember which way was up.  James had slumped over him and was breathing harshly into the side of Q’s throat, his cock still inside him.  Q wrapped his arms around him and held onto him, running his fingers through James’s hair.  Everything felt leaden and sluggish as he craned his neck to kiss James’s sweaty temple.

“I love you.”  James’s words were quiet against his skin.

“I know.  Do you think I didn’t know that?  I love you too.”

“I want…”  James began but then fell silent.  When he didn’t continue Q kissed him again.

“What do you want sweetheart?”

“I never thought I would ever meet anyone who I loved so completely.  I made a mistake today.  Misunderstood.  And it destroyed me to think that you might not want me anymore.”

James paused again.  It seemed like he was trying to tell Q something but struggling to find the words.  Q waited but he _really_ didn’t expect what came next;

“Will you marry me?”

Q’s brain took a moment to catch up with what James had just said.

“Will I…?”

James looked up and he looked so hopeful, so… vulnerable and Q felt a rush of love for him.  His man who was so strong, so powerful and yet despite everything was undone by his love for Q.  He grinned and was about to answer when something occurred to him.

“Did you seriously just propose to me with your cock stuck up my arse?”

James looked surprised and then burst out laughing, realising what he’d done. 

“That depends.  Does it have a bearing on your answer?”

“No.”  Q said.  He saw the way a shadow of doubt passed over James’s face so he kissed him softly.  “It has no bearing on the answer.  The answer is yes.  It’s always been yes from the very first moment that I met you.”

James smiled as they kissed again, the slight shifting causing James’s softening cock to finally slip free.  He wrapped his arms around Q and gently lifted him, laying him out of the sofa.  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped between Q’s legs before lying down beside him and pulling him into his arms.  Q sighed as James stroked down his back.

“I think there’s come on your suit.”

“Mmmm.” James agreed.

“You don’t care, do you?”

“Not in the slightest.  You've just agreed to marry me.  I don’t care about anything else right now.”

Q closed his eyes.  He knew exactly what James meant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
